THE SAME CUP FOR ALL.

My baby got a job
Where the grand folks hobnob
With the lowly
And the only
Difference is the cut of cloth,
While the height of the froth
On the top
Of coffee cups
Is ubiquitous
For each of us,
And we all sashay
The same way
Thru cafe bars
And beneath the stars
That gleam
In the steam
Of Chicago steel
As the winter nights peel
The heat
From the streets
And use it to herald
The sidewalk’s perils,
And staying indoors too long
When the throng
Of humanity
In its meekness and vanity
Is waiting for you
To do what you do
Is unhealthy,
So now you can be
Serving a latte
Whilst being rather chatty
And be revelling in the glory
Of all Chitown’s stories.